


Running in the Dark

by LizBee



Series: the one where L'Rell saved Kat but a wee bit of body horror is involved [2]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Section 31 (Star Trek), canon-noncompliant degree of mental healthcare, post-Mirror Universe trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: He's back in his own universe, but 'home' isn't what it used to be.
Relationships: Katrina Cornwell/Original Universe Gabriel Lorca
Series: the one where L'Rell saved Kat but a wee bit of body horror is involved [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913257
Comments: 21
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I am BACK ON MY BULLSHIT. 
> 
> 2\. Title is from "Sugar for the Pill" by Slowdive, even though that's more of a mood than a source of incisive lyrics.
> 
> 3\. No betas! We dye like men!
> 
> 3a. Seriously, if you find a typo, do let me know.
> 
> 4\. I'm posting weekly, but just FYI the story itself is already written.

Gabriel had never aspired to command a Constitution class ship. Too big, too hard to maneuver, and the new uniforms were damn ugly. 

The _Enterprise_ \-- or at least her sickbay -- had him reconsidering. Dr Boyce just nodded when he refused sedation, instead injecting him with painkillers and setting to work putting him back together, right down to the tiny broken bones in his hands that Katrina hadn't had time to fix before--

His heart was pounding, the sound pulsing in his ears and echoing from the biobed's display. 

"Just keep breathing," Dr Boyce murmured. "You're doing fine, son, you're doing fine." 

Son, hell, Boyce only had a few years on him, and Gabriel felt like he'd aged a century in his time -- away. 

But he kept breathing. Concentrated on that until the worst was over and Boyce was frowning down at him. 

"Got a lot of scar tissue there, Captain," he said. 

"Leave them." The painkillers were wearing off, and there was, for once, no pain swirling in to fill the gap. "I earned them fair and square." 

"I'd hate to see the other guy." 

It was guys, plural -- and gals, and persons of other genders and none at all. Krex aimed to entertain, and people paid good money to see a notorious ex-Terran fight in the rings. Weird to think it was over. He was home. Safe. Pain-free and sitting under bright, bright lights, waiting for his next move. 

That came in the form of Lieutenant Commander Una. Gabriel had never met her in person, but he knew of her, both by reputation -- which was stellar and intimidating -- and because Kat spoke highly of her. Una and Burnham, the top XOs to the top captains, and it was a race to see who would get her own command first. 

Then came Burnham's fall, and the war, and the day he tried to beam up from Prior's World while an ion storm closed in. 

And now, years later, here was Una, still on the Enterprise, as if nothing had changed.

"Captain Pike has asked to see you," she said, "if you're ready." 

He was showered, dressed -- sweats, no insignia; the computer, he had noticed, was not authorised to replicate him a uniform -- and fed. "No point keeping him waiting." 

Constitution class ships had no ready room, another point against them in Gabriel's eyes. Pike had claimed a set of quarters as his office, all warm golden light and souvenirs from home. 

Chris came around the desk to greet him, shaking his hand, grasping his forearm.

"Captain Lorca," he said. "It's damn good to see you alive." 

"Is it?" Gabriel asked.

Pike's smile faded a fraction, and Gabriel registered how tired he looked. How old. Hair fully grey, fine lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked -- haunted.

Gabriel could sympathise. 

But he still said, "People around here keep looking at me like they're seeing a ghost. Maybe not the friendly kind." 

"Yeah," said Pike. "Yeah." He waved at the low chairs by the window. "Have a seat, Gabriel. You too, Number One." 

Gabriel watched Una sit down gingerly, and remembered Kat saying, _"She gives the impression of confidence, that there's no situation where she's not in control. I know it doesn't sound like a weakness, but I think Una will be a better leader when she learns to let the mask slip a little."_

Una met his eyes, and for a second, the mask was gone. 

"Officially," said Chris, "everything about where you've been is classified and we only know a few loose details. Unofficially--"

"We've been calling it the mirror universe," said Una.

"That's cute," said Gabriel. "Maybe it'll catch on." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Taking up space. "Where's my crew?"

Pike and Una exchanged a look.

"The bastard's dead, I know that much. Got himself home on a different ship, for all the good it did him. Where's the _Buran_? Is Patel in command? I don't want the ship back, I just need to know how my crew are doing." 

"The _Buran_ ," Chris said slowly, "was boarded by Klingons. The ship was lost with all hands save Commander Ellen Landry and the man posing as her captain." 

Funny. Here he thought nothing could surprise him.

"And Ellen?"

"She was killed in action a few months later," said Una. "I'm sorry, the details are classified."

Shit. Ellen. Clever, brittle Ellen. Ellen Landry, who gave her loyalty with an intensity to which Gabriel felt completely inadequate. He could only imagine what a Terran -- a real Terran, not the broken shell Katrina had been -- would do with someone like that. 

Maybe the rest of his crew were lucky. That was the other Lorca's line. Touched by destiny. Driven by fate. 

"And he was given another ship," he said. 

More significant eye contact between Una and Pike. 

"A good ship," said Una. "A good crew." 

" _I_ had a good crew." Gabriel rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache forming behind his eyes. He wasn't used to bright lights anymore. "What now, Chris?"

"We're en route to rendezvous with a Starfleet Intelligence cruiser. You'll be fully debriefed by--"

"Section 31," Gabriel finished. "Jesus, Chris, what--" He stopped, realising he didn't want to know _what the hell happened to Starfleet?_ Had they really been taken in by a Terran? Gave him a new ship after he destroyed the _Buran_? And now Christopher Pike, the embodiment of Federation values and all-around good guy, was working with Section 31? 

"It's complicated," was all Pike said. 

"Figures." Gabriel got up to pace. _If you stop moving, you're dead_. "Do me a favour, will you? Let Admiral Cornwell know where I'm going." 

He hadn't planned on owing Kat any favours this soon. He had watched the Terran Katrina die, and he wasn't ready to see that face again yet. But at least the admiral would fight for him.

Only--

Pike looked like he was about to say something, but Una got there first.

"I'm so sorry, Captain Lorca," she said. "Admiral Cornwell was killed over six years ago." 

His ship. His crew. His best friend. Gone. 

So what did he come home for?

"If it's any consolation," Una added, "she saved this ship, and billions of lives along with it." 

He forced himself to smile. "She always was an overachiever."

Una nodded, her eyes bright. It was the most naked emotion Gabriel had seen from her. 

"By rights," said Pike, "she -- and everyone else we lost that day -- would be heroes. But it's--"

"Complicated," Gabriel finished.

*

Una offered to escort him to guest quarters.

"I was with the admiral until the last few minutes," she said. "I wish there had been another way." 

She was in control of her emotions again, mask firmly back in place. 

"She spoke very highly of you," Gabriel told her. 

"I'm glad. She was a generous mentor." Una adjusted her grip on the turbolift control. Paused it. "Do you want to see where…?"

He did. 

It was just a little lab on the outer hull of the saucer. Newer than the rest of the ship. The flooring didn't quite match the corridor outside. 

There was a sort of sick humour in it, he thought. A week ago, he had watched Katrina Cornwell evaporate into nothing, unable to keep her from sacrificing herself. _"I've never committed a selfless act in my damn life, Gabriel. Don't try and stop me now._ " And years before that, the woman he still thought of as the real Katrina had done the same thing. 

And two _Burans_ had been lost, and two crews -- save, of course, the Terran Manderly and Rees, who had taken him away and sold him to Krex, and at this point, he didn't know if he wished them well or wanted them dead. 

What did he do now?

"Section 31 may as well do what they want," he told his reflection. 

*

Section 31 appeared early the next morning in the form of a tall young man with dark, sad eyes, a full beard, and hair of non-regulation length pulled into a loose bun. Gabriel had been braced for Leland; even more surprising was the relative warmth with which Pike greeted Commander Tyler. 

Tyler shook Gabriel's hand, saying, "It's good to finally meet you, Captain." 

The words were innocuous enough, but his tone made Gabriel think he had spent time with the bastard Terran. Hell, maybe they worked together. Kat always said Section 31's sinister reputation was overstated. She did not say it was completely undeserved.

"Good luck," said Pike. "I didn't get a chance to tell you--" He caught Tyler's eye and shook his head. "Nevermind." 

"Take care of yourself," Una told him. 

And then he and Tyler beamed over to the little Intelligence cruiser, and he was in unfamiliar hands. 

"You should know," said Tyler, "I served with the Terran Lorca for a few months." 

"That must have been fun."

"At the time, I considered it an honour." Tyler gave him an earnest look. "It's good to have you home, Captain Lorca." 

*

It was two days to Section 31 headquarters. Time enough to learn that Tyler wasn't just an operative, but commanded the whole organisation. As for Leland, the Gang of Four--

"It's complicated," said Tyler.

By this stage, Gabriel wasn't surprised. 

Also gone, he learned, was the old HQ. Section 31 now made its home in an old dilithium mining camp. The mines had been automated a decade earlier, but the camp -- actually an ugly prefab building, the sort you found on any colony settled in the last twenty-five years -- remained. 

"Most of the facility's underground," Tyler told him. "The mining operation distorts sensor readings, so as far as the galaxy's concerned, this planet's uninhabited." 

"You don't worry about Klingons trying to take control and steal the dilithium?" 

"We're not scared of Klingons," Tyler said. 

He wasn't bad company, Gabriel had found, save that he had a nasty way of getting you to reveal more about yourself than you wanted. The whole point of this excursion was debriefing, so Gabriel didn't resist. 

But he also didn't mention Katrina. 

"Krex bought and sold a lot of Terrans over the years," was all he had said. "The only one he kept was a doctor, to keep his fighters alive and more or less functional." 

The more or less depended on the fighter's popularity with the audiences, but Katrina always did what she could to ensure that, the further from human a fighter was, the faster they died. Decades of captivity had hollowed her out from the inside, but she was still a Terran. 

Small as it was, the facility was still half-empty. Gabriel recognised some of the faces he passed on Tyler's tour, officers who had been serving in the mainstream fleet last he saw them. The proportion of disabled officers seemed high; every group seemed to have someone in a hoverchair, or with a prosthetic limb or eye. 

Section 31 had been decimated, he realised, and was being restaffed by people who might otherwise have taken medical discharges, or who were on desk duty while they adapted to their new prostheses.

He ran his theory past Tyler, who nodded. 

"We're rebuilding," he said. "Hopefully into something better. We're torchbearers."

"You're a romantic. That's sweet." 

Tyler looked faintly wounded. But didn't argue. 

"I won't ask what happened," Gabriel said, "because I know you'll just say it's complicated. But give me a yes or no -- did the Terran Lorca do all this?"

"No," said Tyler at once. "Section 31 collapsed after he died."

"Good." Gabriel looked around the near-empty mess hall. "That's one thing I don't have to feel bad about." 

The mess hall was nearly a kilometre underground; its "windows" were screens. Two displayed outdoor scenes -- one warm beach, one snowy mountain. The third carried Federation news feeds; the fourth had running status updates about the facility itself. 

Tyler was watching this one. A shuttle had landed ten minutes ago. 

"Shit," he muttered. "Captain Lorca, there's one thing--"

The mess hall doors opened. 

A woman entered. Above average height. Lean. She wore a green coat. It matched her eyes.

Ten days ago, he had watched her die.

She looked at him. Stopped. Froze.

"Gabriel," she said.

"Th--" His mouth was dry. "They told me you were dead."

"Yeah?" She looked like she had had the wind knocked out of her. "I spoke at your memorial." 

"Kat--" 

She took a few steps towards him. Reached out, then stopped. 

"I thought I'd never see you again," she said. 

"Why did Una tell me you were dead?"

"Well," said Kat slowly, "I was. As far as she's concerned -- along with most of Starfleet -- I am." She put her hand on his chest, resting her palm flat over his sternum. "You wanna sit down?"

"I want answers. And don't tell me it's complicated." 

"Okay." There was a flicker of bleak amusement in Kat's eyes. "But it is."


	2. Chapter 2

Tyler's office was big, bright, with one screen set to display a lake scene. As soon as the door closed behind them, he turned to Kat and said, "You want to read him in? Already?"

"You object?"

Tyler hesitated. 

"Do you think Captain Lorca's untrustworthy?" Kat asked. "Unstable?"

Tyler glanced at Gabriel, who just crossed his arms and -- pointedly -- didn't offer to step outside. 

Finally, he said, "The other Lorca seemed like a good captain. Until he didn't. So I'm gonna need more than a couple of days to make an assessment." 

"Okay," said Kat. "But Captain Lorca is intelligent and tenacious. If we leave him in the dark, he'll just start digging on his own." 

Well. He had wanted Kat as his advocate against Section 31.

But something felt off. Not just that Kat was only unofficially alive. The hierarchy was askew. Kat wore her authority lightly most of the time, but she shouldn't have to cajole a mere commander.

"Think about it, Ash," she said. 

Gabriel dismissed that mystery for now. He needed to prioritise. 

"I only want one thing right now," he said. "Tell me what happened to my crew."

*

Kat's office "window" displayed a starfield. She gave him a PADD and a cup of coffee, and worked in silence at her desk while he read. 

Finally, he said, "He destroyed the _Buran_. And they gave him another ship." 

"He was very … plausible." 

"Right. Tenacious and intelligent." Gabriel was tempted to throw the PADD across the room, but Kat was watching him with the expression that meant she was weighing up treatment options. So he put it down carefully, sipped his coffee -- it had gone cold -- and said, "Fuck." 

"Yeah." 

There was no point in raging at her. He had seen all the raw data, including Vice Admiral Cornwell's firm arguments against reassigning Captain Lorca.

"You spend much time with him?"

"Put it this way," said Kat, "I've heard several firsthand accounts of his death. And I really wish I'd been there to see it with my own eyes." 

She smiled, but it was more a baring of teeth. For a moment, Gabriel was -- there, in the fighters' infirmary, watching Katrina work. 

"You've changed," he said.

She didn't deny it.

"If it's any consolation," Kat said, "your crew didn't suffer." 

"I guess you'd know." 

*

Tyler turned Gabriel's debriefing over to a young doctor, fresh out of her psychiatry residency. 

"Therapy and debriefing in one? That's unusually efficient, for Starfleet."

Dr Dehner smiled politely, which was all that quip deserved, and said, "How do you feel, Captain Lorca?"

He had spent the last few nights in beds designed for humans, with no pain, and no fear of being murdered in his sleep. 

"I feel great," he said. 

"Can you tell me a little about your experiences in the Terran Empire?"

"If you've read Commander Tyler's notes, you'll know I spent most of my time outside the Empire."

Dehner's smile was colder this time. Gabriel decided that he liked her, which wasn't the same as trusting her. 

"I was sold to a Nausicaan named Krex," he said. "He ran a fighting ring. Among other things, but that's what he wanted me for. He figured there was money to be had, selling tickets to watch me get killed." 

"But you survived." 

He gave her a smile he hoped was charming. "I'm tougher than I look." 

Dr Dehner remained firmly uncharmed. "Tell me about it." 

*

The facility was small enough -- and his quarters were roughly the size of his whole ready room on the _Buran_ \-- that he took most meals with the Section 31 staff. If they noticed that he always sat where he could see every exit, they were polite enough not to point it out. 

Not that they discussed their work. These officers were professionals, and while few of them had set out to make their careers in intelligence, they were well-trained and disciplined. 

They were also friendly, which was … unusual.

"Leland would have eaten them alive," he said to Tyler when their paths crossed in the gym. 

"I learned a lot about leadership from Captain Pike." 

"You could do worse," Gabriel said. 

Privately, he found it troubling that Federation Intelligence was in the hands of an officer so raw. But he kept that opinion to himself, along with his tendency to bristle when ensigns and junior-grade lieutenants referred to Kat by her first name instead of her rank. 

"What are you smiling at?" Dr Dehner asked.

"All I wanted was to get home. Pick up my life where I left off. I forgot the world would move on without me." Gabriel exhaled. "Pretty arrogant, right?"

"Yes," the doctor said, "but not unreasonable, or even unusual." She picked up her PADD. "I'd like to talk about your escape."

"We saw an opportunity, and we took it." 

It had taken him months just to persuade Katrina that escape was possible. Longer to come up with a plan that had a chance of working and a body count he could live with. 

"'We'," Dr Dehner said.

 _Shit._

"It's not the first time," she added. "The omissions are glaring, once you notice them." She tilted her head, her expression neutral. "Speaking of which -- I notice you haven't made any inquiries about Dr Cornwell since you arrived here."

 _Three years in a hell dimension, you'd think I'd be better at handling an interrogation._ "What do you mean?" he asked. All innocence, he hoped. 

"On the _Enterprise_ , you were told she had died. You had eyewitness accounts, or as good as. Now you know she's alive, and working for us. I find it interesting that you haven't tried to find out what happened."

"You think anyone would tell me the truth if I asked?"

"But you haven't asked, Captain." 

He said nothing. 

"According to the sensor logs on the Nausicaan shuttle," she said, "there were two human lifesigns aboard. Then there was a plasma leak, and the second human was killed shutting it down."

He exhaled slowly. 

_"I've never committed a selfless act in my damn life, Gabriel."_

"It must be difficult," said Dr Dehner, "to grieve for someone who is, for all intents and purposes, standing in front of you." 

Gabriel swallowed. Focused his attention on the backs of his hands. Veins. Hair. Scars. Anything to avoid the doctor's sympathetic gaze. 

Dr Dehner rose to her feet.

"I think we're done for today," she said. 

Without looking up from his hands, he said, "Do you two talk about me? You and Kat?"

"Katrina chose not to be involved in your debriefing." She hesitated. "But she has given consent for me to tell you that she is also one of my patients." 

*

After that, the nightmares started. Which Dr Dehner -- or Kat -- had probably predicted. All part of the healing process, very healthy, all the best mental health professionals recommended waking up sweaty, screaming and vomiting.

Dr Dehner could probably prescribe something, he knew, but that would require him to talk about it. Gabriel settled, instead, for solitary gym sessions late into the night, pounding the workout dummies until his knuckles bled, working himself into exhaustion.

_"You want to live, Gabriel? Learn to kill."_

His arrival had sparked both hope and shame in Katrina. Hope, because she thought he was a Terran starship captain, a would-be emperor, someone too important to be a piece in Krex's private games. And shame, because she had been a prisoner for over a decade, afraid to escape or take her own life, or do anything but obey her captors. 

The truth, when she finally accepted it, was both a relief and a disappointment. 

But she was still Terran, and she knew the rules of this place. So she taught him to survive, and he offered her an escape route. A life outside the Terran Empire, if they could find their way. A little house by a beach on some remote Federation colony. Some kind of peace. 

If they had picked another shuttle -- if Krex had bothered with maintenance -- if the fire suppression systems had activated just seconds sooner--

He didn't think he had loved Katrina, but for nearly three years they had nothing and no one but each other. He had watched her die. Kept watching her die, every time he closed his eyes. 

One night, his wanderings brought him to Kat's quarters. He stood outside for a long time, finger hovering over the chime. 

She probably would tell him the truth, if he asked. They could share a drink. Share a bed. For old times' sake. 

He started to walk away.

Behind him, her door opened.

"I thought that was you," Kat said. 

She wore a tank top and shorts. Her shirt rode up, and Gabriel caught a glimpse of two deep, odd scars, scored into the skin just below her belly button. 

She pulled her shirt down. 

"Can't sleep?" she asked.

Gabriel shook his head.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not yet."

It wasn't _no_. And Kat knew it, too. 

He felt her watching him walk away.

*

Part of him had hoped that there'd be catharsis in filling in the missing pieces for Dr Dehner. But it was just … work. Sad. Sometimes difficult. 

Nevertheless, as she took her notes, he leaned back and said, "So. Am I cured?"

Without looking up from her PADD, the doctor said, "I'm sure you know it's not as easy as that." 

"Call it wishful thinking." 

Dehner raised her eyes. 

"It's a good beginning," she said. 

"You have no poetry in your soul." 

She looked pleased to hear it. 

The weird thing was that, even with the disturbed nights, he had more energy. Following conversations required less effort. He kept his now-customary seat with a view of the exits, but no longer flinched when the mess hall doors opened. 

He figured he was learning how to be safe again. Baby steps. 

He was also getting restless. Enough that, the next time he ran across Tyler in the gym, he said, "You've got a lot of disabled officers on temporary assignment here. Is there room for one more?"

Tyler was on a treadmill; the only sounds were his even breathing and his feet hitting the surface. Gabriel had seen Tyler set and maintain a pace which would have killed Gabriel, even in his youth. It was one of the little mysteries he had filed away to think about when he was ready. 

When Tyler didn't answer right away, Gabriel added, "Or does Starfleet have other ideas?"

"As far as I can tell, Starfleet doesn't want to know." Tyler's smile was a little hard, a little sad. "Don't take it personally. We've all been there. I'll find something for you." 

'Something' was a desk and access to ships' logs and sensor reports from the Arcadian sector. 

"We've had a starship and three civilian freighters disappear in that region," said the lieutenant who had just found herself Gabriel's new CO. "And we're short staffed, we haven't been able to spare an analyst to look for patterns until now." 

"Doesn't Section 31 keep an AI for that sort of thing?"

"Not anymore. I asked, but Commander Tyler said--"

"'It's complicated'," Gabriel finished. 

The lieutenant smiled. "You'll fit right in, Captain." 

*

After three years as a killer, he had forgotten that he used to be good at this sort of thing. Surveying disparate sources, finding relevant data, forming conclusions. Just like writing a history paper at the Academy, except his conclusions could have real consequences. 

It felt good to get out of his head for a while. To have a problem to solve. 

After he submitted his report -- the most likely causes of the disappearances were, in descending order, Klingons, Orions, non-aligned raiders, or a subspace or spatial anomaly -- he sat back and stared at his console for a few minutes. 

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he ran a search on _Katrina Cornwell, Vice Admiral_.

The public record ended with her death aboard the _USS Enterprise_ in a conflict with [REDACTED], followed by the standard posthumous honours. 

Section 31's record was sealed, and a message appeared to warn him that his attempt to access classified records had been recorded and all appropriate authorities would be notified. 

_Good_ , Gabriel thought.

*

The appropriate authority was Kat herself, appearing at his table in the mess hall that evening. 

"May I sit?" she asked.

He made space for her. 

"I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding me," he admitted.

"Just … giving you space." Kat leaned on her elbows, folding her arms. She looked shy, Gabriel thought. Like the kid she had been when they first met, all ambition and awkwardness. "I thought, after everything you'd been through, the last thing you needed was -- pressure."

He considered that. Much as he hated having things decided for him--

"I appreciate it," he said. 

"You don't owe me anything," said Kat. 

"Except honesty." 

It was their old rule. More pragmatic than romantic, but that was their way. 

He hadn't intended it as a dig at her, but Kat looked down. 

"Yeah," she said, and pulled a PADD out of her pocket. "Here," she said. "The full truth. Your counterpart's final command. _Discovery_ , Ash, me." 

He accepted it gingerly, as if the polymer was about to burst into flames. He wanted to know -- hell, he was entitled to know, morally if not legally. But there was such caution in Kat's eyes... 

"You don't want me to read it?" he asked.

"No," she said, "but telling you myself would be worse." 

Kat stood up. 

"You know where to find me," she said, and walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

At 0400, he was at Kat's door. She didn't look surprised. 

He said, "Just so I'm clear, Section 31 -- _Federation security_ \-- is being run by two Klingons." 

"Technically," she said, "Ash is in charge. And he's not a Klingon, strictly speaking." She attempted to smile. "I have more Klingon DNA in me than he does, these days, but my psych profile is still human. You can read it, if you want."

"I did." 

"Well." Kat put her arms behind her back, and he knew her well enough to know it was because she didn't want him to see her nervousness. "Are you disgusted?"

Gabriel blinked. "Beg your pardon?"

"Genetic manipulation. Hybridisation. Not to mention the cybernetic implants in my brain, those aren't too popular with Starfleet either, these days." Kat released her hands, raising them, palms up. "I'm not who I used to be." 

He tried to smile. "Me neither." 

What he was thinking was, _Katrina_ \-- the Terran Katrina -- _would say you're an obscenity._

But she was no one's idea of a moral compass. 

His mind was teeming with questions. Like, _You gave the order to destroy the Klingon homeworld?_ and _You gave the Terran fucking Emperor command of a starship?_ The war had changed her, even before she faced death and Klingon resurrection, and he, who had missed most of it, wasn't in a position to criticise. 

Instead, he took a step towards her. Put his hands on her shoulders, and felt some of her tension ease. 

"I lost a lot of friends," she said. "Not to mention my rank, my career. My name." She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad to have you back." 

Gabriel put his face in her hair and breathed in the scent of her, and tried not to think about the other Katrina. 

*

"I've recommended to Starfleet that you be cleared for desk duty," said Dr Dehner.

Gabriel blinked at her and said, "What?"

"I realise you may have hoped for command, and I'm sorry, but at this stage in your recovery--"

"No, no," Gabriel waved that away. "I don't want another ship. I just assumed Starfleet wouldn't want me." 

"Yes." Dr Dehner's mouth tightened, her professional facade giving way to open disapproval. "I understand Starfleet politics might influence the outcome, but, speaking as your therapist, I think you still have a great deal to offer." She studied him thoughtfully. "Where do you see yourself, Captain?"

The truth was, he had no answer. Desk duty sounded fine, in theory, but the thought of putting on that uniform again--

But if he wasn't Starfleet, then who -- what -- was he? 

Instead of answering, he said, "Is this how you saw your career going, Doctor? Shrink to the spies?"

"I want to study the psychiatric effects of long-term space travel," she said. "But we go where we're sent. Anyway, there's still time." 

She was, he remembered, very, very young.

"You didn't answer my question," she added.

"I don't know," Gabriel admitted. 

"Well," the doctor said gently, "think about it. You have time, too."

*

Gabriel took a walk. 

This was a dead planet. If there had ever been life here, it hadn't managed to evolve beyond the microbial, and no trace remained. This world was desolate, but not, he decided, depressing: the rocky outcroppings were impressive, and the sky was vast, and blue. 

It had been a long time since he'd been properly outdoors. Not since Prior's World. It was nice to have a breeze. 

He walked -- and jogged, a little -- about five kilometres before he turned back. When he crested the hill that overlooked the old mining facility, he found Ash Tyler sitting on a rock. 

"Waiting for me?" he called.

Tyler held up a PADD. "This came in for you. Starfleet's decision on your deployment."

Gabriel joined him on the rock. 

"Too quick," he said. "Must be bad news."

Tyler nodded.

"You read my mail?" Gabriel asked.

"I was copied in." 

The short version was, essentially, _Welcome back, now please fuck off again_. But in politer, more bureaucratic language. _Given the complexity of events around the losses of the_ USS Buran _and_ USS Discovery _, Starfleet cannot currently offer a posting to Captain Lorca…_

"It's Kat's fault, in a way," said Tyler. "She had everything about the Terran Empire classified. Showed them how easy it was just … make something disappear. Then we -- me and Pike, mainly, and Spock and Una -- did the same thing with _Discovery_ and everyone who served aboard. I think Starfleet would do it to Section 31, if it could."

He drew a short length of rope from his jacket pocket and started tying it in knots. Knot, release, knot, release.

"You sail?" Gabriel asked.

"In another life." 

"Right." 

Knot. Release. Knot. Release. Gabriel wondered if Tyler was another of Dehner's patients. 

"When you figure out your next step," said Tyler, "I'll give you what you need. A new identity, if you want it--"

"No," said Gabriel sharply.

"A cover story, then, if you want to go home."

He didn't want that, either. 

"Am I being kicked out?" he asked. 

"You're not a prisoner," said Tyler. "You're free to do whatever you want."

"Except serve in Starfleet." 

"Yeah," said Tyler mildly, "that's what they told Kat, too. As you can see, we found a way around that." 

Gabriel looked at him. "Are you offering me a job, Commander Tyler?"

"Your analysis work is good. I know you're a capable strategist. And you're a Starfleet captain." Tyler looked rueful. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're a bit short of senior officers these days. Starfleet is abrogating its oversight role, and there are factions in the Federation Council which want to move us completely into the shadows." 

"Politics," said Gabriel with disgust.

"Yeah." Tyler bared his teeth, and for a moment, Gabriel could imagine the Klingon cultist he had once been. "Not my area." 

"Nor mine." 

"Nope. But if you took some of Kat's workload…" 

"She'll murder me," said Gabriel. Which was a lie. Kat lived and breathed politics, even when she claimed otherwise. 

And Tyler, from the way he was raising his eyebrows, knew it, too. 

"I'll think about it," Gabriel said. 

*

He ate dinner in silence, thinking about his options. He figured Tyler might give him a ship, if he asked for one. A civilian freighter. Small crew. A little team of his own. 

He tried to picture himself conducting job interviews. Couldn't do it. 

When he'd had enough of his own thoughts, he called Kat.

"I'm in the mood to see a meteor shower," he said.

"Any meteors in particular?"

"I was thinking the Perseids." 

He could hear Kat smile. "I'll bring something to drink," she said.

She appeared at his door five minutes later, a bottle of single malt in hand. 

"I thought you might have switched to bloodwine," Gabriel said, watching her pour.

"Not enough livers." Kat pressed a glass into his hand and looked around his quarters. "These are--"

"Small."

"I was going to say nice," she said. "But since you mention it…"

His quarters consisted of a few shelves, a bed, and an alcove with a shower, toilet and sink. The replicator was limited to clothes and light snacks. 

Kat sat on his bed, cross-legged, drink in hand. 

"I guess dilithium miners aren't much for luxuries," she said. 

"If I stay, do I get bigger quarters?"

"Is that what it takes?"

Gabriel shrugged. He called up the Perseids footage and sat down beside Kat, legs stretched out. 

She chuckled.

"What?" he asked.

"This. Beats camping. I'm too old to sleep on the ground." She stretched, letting her arm touch his. Her knee bumped his thigh. 

"Sorry," she said. 

"Don't be." Gabriel rotated his glass, watching the light's reflection shift in the amber liquid. "I don't need to be protected."

He felt her relax against him. 

"Anyway," he added, "we've shared smaller beds than this." 

Like the bed in his childhood room, one afternoon when they both had leave from the Academy and his parents were off-world. They had made a lot of solemn promises about not falling in love, about being friends who just slept together, casually, it didn't mean anything--

_And look where we are now._

Would their eighteen-year-old selves see their scars? Or just that they were together?

"How could I forget?" Kat said. "All your high school trophies … your mom's cat crying to be let in…" 

"Admit it," Gabriel said, "those were the greatest two and a half minutes of your life." 

Kat laughed. "They definitely changed it, put it that way." 

He sipped his drink and let silence fall between them. 

Eventually, he said, "I don't know what to do next." 

"You don't have to decide right away." 

"I hate the uncertainty." 

He waited for her to make a diagnosis out of that, but Kat just said, "Yeah. I know." 

When they watched the Perseids as kids, the sky had been full of other lights. Earth's defence grid. Starships. Old satellites. This footage had been cleaned up. Enhanced. It was a better view, and there were no insects, but it wasn't the same. 

Kat said, "What did you have in mind when you escaped with my Terran self?" 

It was strange to hear her describe Katrina that way. He'd never harboured any delusions that they'd get along. 

"Some type of peace. Enough food. A house by the water. I couldn't think beyond that." 

"I understand."

He figured she probably did. 

"Did you love her?" Kat asked.

"She wasn't a good person." 

"Right." Kat stretched her legs out and rolled onto her stomach. "Me neither." 

"I didn't mean--"

"I know you didn't. But I ordered a genocide. And I get to live with it." 

Gabriel couldn't see her face. Wasn't sure what he wanted. Carefully -- he had learned not to take Katrina by surprise -- he put his hand on her shoulder. 

"Sorry," said Kat, and she rolled over to face him. "This isn't your problem." 

"It's a relief to think about someone other than myself for a change." 

She reached up to touch his face. 

Gabriel set his drink aside and lay down to face her. 

"We didn't sleep together," he said. "Krex kept her alive, but he didn't treat her gently. I don't think she had any desire left in her." 

"But she trusted you."

"Eventually." 

The smell of warp plasma and burning polymer. The light and heat. _"I've never committed a selfless act in my damn life, Gabriel."_ Katrina, evaporating into nothing.

"I wish I understood why she did it," he said. 

"Would you like a theory?" Kat asked. 

"She wasn't you." 

"What's awful about Terrans," she said, "is how alike we are. The other Lorca was every bit as charming and clever and selfish as you." 

"I don't want to talk about him." 

"Okay," said Kat. "You want to know why _I_ decided to sacrifice myself?"

"I … have wondered," he admitted. "We were alone, Katrina and I. You had a whole crew."

"Yeah. I could have sent anyone in my place. I could have traded places with Chris Pike. Or Una. Or some kid in engineering who graduated a month ago. Would that have been fair?"

"Flag officers are meant to be protected."

"I know, but…" She shifted, her legs bumping his, frowning as she searched for words. "Here was a moment where I could live, but only at someone else's expense. I was sick of it. Exhausted, actually. I just couldn't make that choice." 

"Permission to speak freely?"

Kat raised her eyebrows. "Always." 

"It sounds to me like you were unfit for duty." 

"Funny, that's what Dr Dehner says." 

"Kat--" Frustrated, he pulled away from her, sitting up. "This isn't a joke." 

"Does it sound like I'm laughing?" Kat rolled onto her back. Her shirt shifted as she moved, and he caught a glimpse of the scars on her belly. "I'm lucky. I got to live -- hell, I got an upgrade. I'm stronger than before, I'm smarter, and I'm probably going to live a really long time. And all it cost was my rank, most of my friends, and my life."

"I'm sorry." 

Her hand found his. 

After a while, he returned to lying on his back, still holding her hand. 

She said, "I think your Kat -- their Kat, I mean -- she'd had enough. One of you had to die, or both of you, and she realised she could choose. After all those years of captivity, she got to decide." 

"Her first selfless act, she called it." 

"Yeah. I can see that." 

"I miss her," said Gabriel.

"I know." Kat traced a pattern on the back of his hand with her thumb. "I'm selfish, too. I want you to stay with Section 31 so I have you close." 

He smiled.

"If I leave," he said, "will I still be able to see you? Or do I have to pretend you're dead?" 

"It's a big galaxy. We can find a corner where no one knows us. And if it's work you want, hell, I can think of a dozen planets where we could use you." 

Gabriel laughed. "Me. A spy."

"An observer. There are plenty of Federation citizens living on fringe worlds where we don't have embassies. Ash had to recall most of our people after Control wiped out our personnel. We're still filling gaps." 

"I … guess I could do that." 

"Just think about it. You don't have to decide right away." Kat squeezed his hand. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" 

"I have nightmares."

"Me too." 

Gabriel raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. 

He fell asleep easily with Kat beside him, and when he woke a few hours later, shaking, she was holding him in her arms, and she had stolen the blankets. 

*

The gossip held that he and Kat were sleeping together. It was only technically true, and Gabriel was disappointed in the poor quality of Section 31's rumour mill.

"You want to issue a correction?" Kat asked. "Or should we just make an announcement when -- if--"

"When," said Gabriel. "I hope." 

She kissed the inside of his wrist, pressing her nose against his skin, and smiled.

He wasn't the only one with -- issues. Kat had slept with that Terran bastard; Gabriel didn't know the exact details, but he figured she had her own issues to work through. 

What he did know -- because she told him, very matter-of-factly -- was that Kat had a big chunk of Klingon DNA affecting her reflexes and instincts, and she wasn't yet comfortable with that. 

Prurient rumours about Klingon sexuality had been swirling since humanity made first contact. Turned out some of them were true. 

"I'm worried I might hurt you," Kat said. 

"I think I'd cope," said Gabriel. 

"I know. Just … give me time." 

It was fine. He needed time, too.

*

He still hadn't made his decision. One afternoon, he placed a call to the _Enterprise_.

Gabriel and Chris made small talk for a few minutes, about the ship and her crew and Pike's upcoming promotion.

"On the subject of careers," said Gabriel, "hypothetically speaking -- if Section 31 offered you a job, would you take it?"

"I don't know," said Chris. "I've never thought about it." He flashed his old Boy Scout smile and added, without a trace of condescension, "I'm not the cloak and dagger type." 

"Right." 

"But the organisation's changing. Hopefully for the better. Commander Tyler has good intentions, but you know what they say about the road to hell. I think he'd benefit from having more experience on his team. Kat can't--" 

Pike stopped.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. 

"You knew?" he asked.

"She … sought me out. A few months back. Strictest secrecy, and all that." This time, Pike's smile was sheepish. "I told you I'm not cut out for black ops. And I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to let you know, back when you were aboard. Una--"

" _Doesn't_ know." 

"It seemed better to let her grieve and move on." 

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "If nothing else, Ash needs someone around who doesn't respond to every situation by marking it classified and pretending it never happened." 

"Sounds like you've made up your mind, then." 

"Maybe. You should talk to Una."

"Yeah." Pike looked melancholy. "I need to have a few conversations before I leave the _Enterprise_. I guess that'll be one of them." 

"It's a promotion, Chris, not execution." 

Pike's smile didn't reach his eyes.

*

Tyler received his decision with just a hint of relief. 

"What made you decide?" he asked.

"I realised," said Gabriel, "at the end of the day, this is just a job. If I don't like it, I'm free to leave." 

From the look which crossed Tyler's face, this thought had never occurred to him. Gabriel realised that he -- ex-starship captain, sometime professional fighter, scarred and tired -- might be one of the more stable elements in Section 31's new leadership. 

For some reason, this knowledge didn't terrify him.

"I'm not sure that's a great sign," said Kat, when he told her about it later.

"It's like I told Ash. I can leave." He touched her knee. "You, too."

"Really? From the second I woke up on that Klingon biobed -- before I even remembered who I was -- all I wanted was to serve." 

"There's more than one way to do that."

"I know, but this is my place." Kat tilted her head. "Are you looking for escape routes?"

"Don't read anything into it," Gabriel told her. 

"I'm not. I think it's sensible." 

They were sitting on the couch in her quarters -- his were being expanded, drones digging into the rock to make more space -- working on PADDs. 

After a while, Kat said, "Una sent me a letter."

"And?"

"She's pissed. She understands, but she's angry. With me, with Chris. With Starfleet. She's handed in her resignation." 

_That_ made Gabriel look up. "Who'll take the _Enterprise_?"

"There's a list going around." And, because they were Section 31, they had access. She flicked the file to him and added, "Children. Starfleet's flagship, and they're giving her to children."

"You're just getting old," Gabriel told her. 

"And Dr Dehner's put in for a transfer."

"See? Kids grow up." He nudged her with his foot. "Una will come around. She helped with the _Discovery_ cover-up. She'll get it."

"I know." 

Kat shifted to lean against him, her head on his shoulder. Gabriel put his arm around her. It was … nice. Safe. He had work to do. He felt no pain. 

He closed his eyes.

_end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this little ride! 
> 
> Will there be a sequel? Put it this way: the main impediments are real life (have you noticed we're in the middle of some kind of pandemic?) than lack of ideas.


End file.
